


1 AM

by Luscivi



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, tuckington if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6097401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luscivi/pseuds/Luscivi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker had learned the hard way that nothing good ever happened after 1 am.</p>
<p>From a prompt on tumblr "Things you said at 1 am while crying"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1 AM

**Author's Note:**

> Just a really short one-shot I did when I was taking requests. It was actually a lot of fun! Apologies in advance for any typos or strange wording this was done at like 2 am like a month ago

Tucker had learned the hard way that nothing good ever happened after 1am.

 

He had learned it when he was 8, sneaking downstairs an hour into Christmas day to find nothing but still air and his father nowhere to be found, he had learned it when Caboose nearly set the base on fire after deciding that pancakes would cook faster if he cranked the temperature up all the way at 2 am, he wished he had remembered it when he was supposed to be sleeping and heard Wash scream.

It wasn’t the first time Tucker had heard the sound. Wash had been with the blues for a couple months, and despite volunteering to take every unnecessary night watch, and go to sleep after the rest of the team, it didn’t take long for the sound to become just another part of the canyon. 

But this time it was different.

This time wasn’t just a panicked cry into an unholy silent night followed by the sound of armored feet racing outside of the base for fresh air, this time it was a name.

The same name, over and over. More desperate each time, the syllables sounding like they had clawed their way out of his throat, leaving his voice raw and heavy with emotion in a way that Tucker hadn’t heard in a long time.

He hadn’t realized he had walked towards Wash’s room until he paused in front of the door, stopping to stare at the handle as every muscle in his body seemed to tense with anxiety. This was way out of his comfort zone- he was a lover not a- well whatever the fuck it was Wash needed right now. Another cry threw hesitation out the window and Tucker walked inside, trying to brace himself for whatever condition he would find the grey soldier in, trying to tell himself that he was only in there because if Caboose woke up he would never go back to sleep. But the illusion vanished when he saw the mess tangled up in the sheets.

Fuck he was shaking, blonde  hair matted to his forehead, nearly dripping into eyes forced shut like his life depended on it. One hand digging into the bed as if it was the only thing keeping his pieces stitched together, the other practically piercing his skull as he dug dull nail beds into his scalp in an attempt to reassure himself of the existence of his scarred and beaten humanity. Every part of his body screaming in agony nearly as loud as his mouth cried for Allison. 

“Wash!” He only seemed to flinch at his name, shrinking smaller until he was curled up like a child, practically mewling as Tucker forced himself to get closer. “WASH.” There was a panic in his gut he would never admit to possessing, Wash was a paranoid dick with a stick up his ass, Tucker didn’t care if he got nightmares. But he was a dick who could kill them without any real effort if he entered a frenzied state.

The third time he called his name was the charm, grey eyes snapped open wide, pupils dilated as he never once took his eyes off Tucker, somehow still managing to grab the magnum under his bed and point it right between his eyes.

It was 1am and Tucker was beginning to wish he had remembered his lessons. Each breath sounded more painful than the last as Wash held out the pistol perfectly still, index finger shaking slightly on the trigger. Tucker was sure he was going to die that night.

“Wash- Wash you’re awake it’s Tucker puT THE GUN DOWN WHAT THE FUCK” Composure was never his specialty. To think he believed he was going to go down in a blaze of glory. He watched as recognition slowly fought to wash over his pallid face. Features contorting into a look of horror somehow more painful to see than the one he had had before. 

“F-Fuck” The word failed to completely leave his bleeding lip but shaking hands dropped the gun to the floor. Tucker would have decked Wash if he didn’t look like someone already had. “I-I-” Ragged breaths came faster and Tucker found himself backing towards the door. Emotional shit wasn’t his specialty, swords and seduction were, neither of which could be found in Wash’s unsettlingly immaculate quarters. 

“Dude are you alright?” Tucker didn’t know what prompted him to ask, the answer was practically tattooed all over Wash’s body, but unlike the aged ink that did little to cover the soldier’s freckles, it wasn’t obscured or contorted by puckered scars. Calloused hands ran through cropped, damp hair, the grey roots no longer adding years to Wash’s supposed age, but rather increasing the size of the elephant in the room that was what had happened in Project Freelancer. 

“I’m fine.” It was the same voice that he heard during missions. Definitive, intimidating, horrifically empty. Unwanted- and as far as Tucker cared, uncomfortable- feelings of concern took hold of his stomach, kneading it until he once more was next to the bed, easing himself down onto the firm mattress.

‘Man that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.” The daggers Wash shots at him seem half hearted, their terrifying effect lost within the canyons that took the place of dark circles under his eyes. There’s a deep sigh, and Tucker hated the silence that filled the air. This- This wasn’t Blue Team. They weren’t emotions and comfort, they were team killing and getting laid.

He wasn’t sure what prompted him to ask who Allison was.

Tucker watched Wash’s entire body tense up at the name, hand twitching towards the back of his neck before he took hold of the thin sheet on his bed. “Woah man- It’s fine you don’t have to.” And Wash didn’t. His face took on a faraway look that Tucker had began to see more and more, shadows in the dark room making him seem even more haunted than normal. He only seemed to relax when Tucker did, leaning back against the wall of the room and releasing a sigh heavy with exhaustion, it was only 1am and it was too late for this shit. 

He remembered Caboose’s nightmares. The hours of chatter after that seemed near impossible to sift through, the only way of calming him just listening and sitting with him so he wouldn’t be alone. It resulted in more all nighters than Tucker pulled in high school but as far as he was concerned it was worth it. And it kept Caboose from cooking anything in his sleep deprived state so really, it was more self preservation than concern.

But breakfast-induced death wasn’t a concern with Wash, so Tucker wasn’t sure why he sat for hours next to the recovery agent until tired grey eyes once more became heavy and he became pliable, allowing Tucker to tuck him back into the bed with little resistance.

There was a strange sense of peace in seeing him at rest, even if the context was rather dreary. Tucker tried to force the feeling down out of his mind, knowing full well that the night’s entertainment would by no means lessen the hell that was going to be the drills and events of the next day. He nearly tiptoed to the door, taking caution not to cause the slightest disturbance until he had made his way back to his own quarters.

“Tucker-” He froze immediately, unwillingly remembering staring into a pistol less than four hours earlier. A forced deep breath filled his body and he peaked into the room, relief and exhaustion dragging on his limbs at the sight of Wash still horizontal, his magnum nowhere to be seen.

“it’s fine wash- Just get some sleep Jesus. Honestly, feel free to sleep late enough and not give us morning drills, good-” A small sound from Wash cut him off and he shut the door quietly after a brief moment of silence, trying to coax his mind to a state of rest as he walked back to his room, bare feet padding on the cold floor and knowing full well he wouldn’t get any rest that night.

“Don’t say goodbye”

He knew those words.

After all, nothing good happened after 1 am.


End file.
